Happy Faces
by TheWitchQueen
Summary: I will probably rewrite this, as I just read through it and realized that it sucks royally right now.


Only Happy Faces………..

Happy faces, laughter, merry talk… 

_Horror, shock and silence as they parted the last time.. _

_Words stirring.. _

_"He would never betray them… He'd die before he did…" _

_For the last time…ever… _

_Screams, flicker of light, more screams.. A massive explosion. _

_The face of a man.. _

_Dark-haired, handsome, smiling.. _

_He would never betray his friends.. _

_Never… _

_Laughter… Evil laughter… _

_Horribly cold laughter piercing its way into the hearts of those around.._

Remus awoke with a start and sat bolt upright as to hear were the screams came from, his head protesting as he did. He looked around in panic before realizing he was in the sofa in his living room, drenched in sweat, tears running silently down his chin as he buried his face in his hands, trying to calm himself. It was always the same visions.

_How could you, Padfoot..? Why? What had they ever done to you?_

Sirius's face became clearer in his mind again but Remus shook his head violently, causing a fit of dry coughs. He stared into the room only lit by the sunset outside. For 4 years these thoughts, dreams and visions had haunted him, day as night. 4 years of mental torture had he so far endured. How many more years? 

A new coughing fit pulled him out of his thoughts. How long had he been sleeping on the sofa, he wondered. 

He turned to look at the big grandfather clock in the corner, his head searing with pain. Clutching his neck quickly in reflex, he caught a glimpse of three deep, long scars running down the back of his lower arm. 

Rubbing his neck, he closed his eyes and sighed heavily, as though he suddenly remembered. 

The night before this had been one of his worse nights as a Werewolf. He had spent the following day on this sofa, mostly asleep, waking up only a few times for some food whom Iris, a witch living not far away from him, had provided. He felt a rush of gratitude towards her as he, slowly this time, turned to see the time. 

6.30. AM.

He didn't want to get up. He really did not feel ready for it. His whole body was aching and his leg was stinging with pain, a pain that definitely shouldn't be there. But sleep didn't sound too inviting right now either. He'd most likely dream about the night over and over anyway. He was mighty sick of it, he thought bitterly.   
After a bit of a struggle to the kitchen, his leg protesting wildly for every step he took, he got himself a glass of water to calm down the coughing a bit before leaning on the still by the sink, gazing out of the window.

_Thank Merlin for Sundays. _He thought with a wary smile. He could not afford to loose a working day because of his condition. Not that work paid off well. Muggle jobs never did unless you had a good few examination papers proving your skill in whatever you were supposed to work with, and sadly they would never have accepted N.E.W.T or O.W.L. papers. 

He turned around, looking at the small, dusty kitchen. It housed one small table and a chair, fridge, oven and a bench. This house was tiny, but it would do since it was only him alone living here. And honestly, he didn't really care anymore what it looked like. 

It had not always been so.

As a kid he had lived with his parents who loved him more than he thought anyone ever could.

But his world was to be turned upside down when he was 4, never to be changed back to something even remotely normal. Yet within his parents' protection and care he still felt that he was somewhat misplaced. Had it been up to nature to decide, he wouldn't have been alive.

But that was before Dumbledore let him attend Hogwarts. 

Smiling at the memory of the day he got his letter, he began his way back to the sofa again. But as he took a step, his right leg reminded him quickly that it was hurt and he had to grab the back of the chair to prevent himself from collapsing. Swaying slightly he moved it a little and sat down, exhausted. Looking down, he saw the faint stains of blood on the right leg of the pyjama and pulled it up, sighing at the sight. He knew many of those cuts would leave everlasting scars, but it was a longer and deeper one at the front that caught his attention. 

_How is this going to continue? I can't do anything for days after these horrible transformations! Why didn't I go after Sirius instead of Peter? Foolish boy. It should've been I and not him who got killed that day. He had more to live for than me. His mother for one… I hadn't and still haven't got anyone. Except Iris of course. What would I have done without her?_

He stared down on the worn wooden-table as he heard a sharp knock on the door. 

_I'll be lynched now, _he thought as he stared at the door. _She'll beat me silly when she sees I'm up without slippers or socks. And who is she to blame? I must look terrible…_ He shot a quick look at his lower leg again before answering. "It's open..." he tried to shout, but his own voice was replaced with a hoarse one sounding nothing like his own.

The door quickly swung open and a witch about Remus's own height with long, dark reddish hair entered. She was a few years younger than him and with the caring and warm, yet concerned look on her face, she reminded him somewhat of Lily. 

Carrying two bags full of what must be groceries, she searched the house from where she stood with an experienced glance and finally turned to see Remus sitting in the kitchen, her face lighting up as she did. 

"Remus! … Oh dear god..." she muttered the last words as she put down the bags and hurried towards him. Remus sighed. He knew he must look awful where he was sitting; tired, bruised; barely able to sit by the table. 

He managed to send her a weak smile as she felt her hand to his forehead. 

"Good Gryffindor! You'll catch on fire soon..!" Iris' eyes trailed down to his wounded leg and Remus could hear her strangle a gasp, probably of shock he thought. 

"I'll have to look at that." She said firmly, reaching one arm around his shoulder and the other tried to find a spot on his arm that was not bruised, then helped him up slowly towards the sofa. He sat down, quite motionless, muttering a "thanks" as she wrapped a dry blanket around him, smiling reassuringly before hurrying of to the kitchen with the two bags. However, she reappeared quickly with a glass filled with crystal clear bright red liquid, which she handed to him.   
"Drink this. It will help in a few seconds and you won't feel the pain as bad." He emptied the glass quickly and it felt like ice was flowing through his body, freezing the pain. 

"And now I want a look at that leg of yours. It did not look anything but horrible." She said sternly, crossing her arms on her chest. Remus rolled his eyes but moved so that both legs were placed in the sofa and he was leaning towards the armrest and a bunch of pillows.   
Iris pulled up the pyjama leg and Remus winced slightly as she ran two fingers down on each side of the cut to feel if there were any broken bones. 

"Seems to be in order, but you'll most likely get a nasty blue mark around it for a while…I'll mend the cut in a second." She said as she came back with a cloth and a bowl of smoking, purple liquid. It stung a great bit as she placed the soaked cloth on the wound but the pain departed after a little while. Remus closed his eyes and almost drifted of to sleep. 

"There." She said a few minutes later as she pulled the pyjama leg nicely back down over the cut. "Anywhere else while we're at it?" she asked in a slightly amused tone. Remus knew she was trying to cheer him up a bit and smiled. "No thanks, I'm feeling much better now." She nodded and disappeared out of the room. 

Leaning back on the armrest, Remus sighed without really wanting to.

He always felt really weak in these situations but despite parts of him hating it, it wasn't too bad. He just detested being so helpless. 

_Like a man my age shouldn't be able to make himself a decent cup of tea if he wanted to..._ he found himself thinking, but quickly pulled himself back to reality. 

_I'm no normal man my age. There's a perfectly good reason for why I can't make a cup of tea. And I have to live with it. So easy. _

He heard noises from the kitchen. Iris was apparently tinkering around with some food or so, not using magic.

"Here. It's much better this way than done magically." She smiled as she placed a plate of potatoes, vegetables and a piece of chicken on the table. He looked into her dark green eyes as she sat down beside him, beaming.   
"You're my saviour, you know that?" he gave her a quick peck on the cheek before concentrating on the food.

Iris blushed slightly. "Oh, I just do what ever needs..." she began, but stopped halfway, knowing what she said wouldn't be half the truth, as nobody seemed to care about Remus other than her. 

Of course, Dumbledore and many of the other Hogwarts Professors cared, but they were busy with their work. Iris, however, was not busy working, as Aurors these days generally didn't have too much work to do. It was years since the last Dark Wizard had placed as much as a toe in the spotlight, so people wouldn't worry until someone actually saw one, which wasn't very likely at all. Iris did not really mind this situation, as she'd be getting a pretty salary for doing merely nothing. 

_If someone asks, I'm keeping an eye out for Dark Creatures..._ She thought to herself knowing that it at least wasn't a lie.

Even though he felt much better, Remus was in no way able to get to work the next day Thankfully Iris knew a Muggle working on the same Library as Remus and she could step in and take Remus's shift that day. 

Knowing that he'd be fit for fight again tomorrow, he searched through his bookshelves for something to read. He loved to read and that was partly why he had been so intent on keeping his job at the Muggle Library. Though he was at first not willing to admit it, he had found a few very good books written by muggles. His favourite book of them all was one he could've sworn was written by a wizard, or at least a Squib. 

It was called Lord of the Rings, and was packed with magic, although in not the same way as he was used to with wands and spells and whatnot, it was still magic nonetheless, and a great piece as well. 

He had recommended it to Dumbledore last time he had visited a year ago, and Dumbledore had kindly agreed to read it whenever he had a spare minute on his hands. Remus had made a note in the back of his head that he'd have to get a copy to keep at home to give to Dumbledore. _If_ he ever showed up again, of course. 

Now he thought about it, he was sure he already had a copy here somewhere, if he could only find it… Oh! There it was, a dusty, thick book hidden between _Defensive Spells and Their Flaws and __Potion, Not Poison._

He pulled it out of the shelf and looked carefully through it. The book was almost falling apart. He'd have to ask Dumbledore to be careful… His eyes caught glimpse of something that looked like a folder of some kind lying on the floor. It had apparently followed a book out of the shelf.

He bent down to pick it up, but hesitated as he saw it was not a folder, but a thin, black book. There was something awfully familiar about it, though he could not remember what it was. 

Picking it up slowly, he turned it and his heart skipped a beat as he read the title written in gold ink.

_Yearbook 7th Year 1975, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

The peeling letters were hardly visible on the tattered, old book but he knew that they had once gleamed in the light. He had gotten it the last day of the 7th term and it contained stuff from every year of his 7. The Marauders had had a great time looking through it; seeing old pictures, being embarrassed as they read about stuff they'd rather forget, smile at pleasant memories and laugh when remembering specific situatons…

He cursed himself before opening it slowly. On the first page was a photo of all the 7th year students huddled together by the Lake below Hogwarts. Lily and James were smiling and waving, Lily's Head Girl badge gleaming in the sunlight. 

Remus smiled. She had been so proud the day she had written to her parents telling them about it. 

James stood on Lily's left side, constantly changing between looking at her and out of the picture. A snitch was flying around his head like a fly and Remus remembered how James had nicked it in his 5th year and then charmed it to follow him wherever he went, unless he locked it up in a box.

In front of the two was Sirius, lying outstretched on the lawn looking very handsome with his fringe falling casually into his eyes. 

Remus's stomach turned at the sight of Padfoot. Had he already started working for Voldemort when this picture was taken? Was he aware that lifelong imprisonment awaited him? 

Remus looked away and saw Peter waving shyly, sitting on Sirius's right side. And there, his hand on James's shoulder was himself. A 17 year old smiling Remus looked back at him, looking slightly pale as normal. 

Remus searched the picture, and next to Lily he found Iris McYarrove smiling at him. She didn't look much older today than on this picture, just a bit more mature. 

He looked closer at the two girls. Seeing them together like this really proved their relation. Iris had slightly darker hair and eyes and a more playful and wild look on her face. Lily looked like a quiet, clever girl, just the one you'd picture as Head Girl.   
How looks could fool people. Lily had been just as wild and careless as Iris at times and Iris could certainly carry a responsible head on her shoulder if she had to. To sum it up, they had been very alike.

He looked back on the whole happy in the middle. Peter had become a bit tougher now and waved more franticly. James kept rumpling his hair once in a while making Lily raise her eyebrows, but she kept smiling broadly. Remus himself was gazing at his friends, beaming proudly. 

_How lucky he'd been to meet people like those..._

Words were scribbled below the picture, but he was unable to read them through the sudden tears that filled his eyes.


End file.
